Morselling
by Howlynn
Summary: Hathaway has a visitor from Robbie's past. What would the old Chief Inspector think of the Lewis-cub? Why would he Haunt James and what does this have to do with the old Devil's Disciple case?
1. Chapter 1

**Morselling**

_noun_

_the act of dividing into or distributing in morsels or small portion_

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><p><em>by Howlynn<em>

_I don't own any of Colin Dexter's characters, just building a few silly castle lumps while playing in his sandbox. _

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><p>James Hathaway had been bent over the evidence file for hours, searching for the anomaly that would lead him to the murderer. It was well past midnight and though there were still people bustling in floors below, his own wing was deserted except for the lamps on his desk.<p>

This had grown to be his normal routine since he'd made DI. Robert Lewis, now his assistant technically, but still his guide deep within, who he was struggling to break from under without losing entirely, had long ago left for home.

James didn't blame him. Robbie had the lovely Laura Hobson to look forward to going home to whilst James mostly had regrets and might-have-beens to keep him company. So, rather than stay home and drink, he worked. He thought briefly that there may have been some small hope that Lewis would see how much he missed him when he went away the first time, but it had backfired. Then he'd gone on his long walk, and been gone for three months. When he returned from Spain, the relationship had not only failed to run its course, but he'd come back to Oxford to find that Robbie and Laura were now sharing accommodations.

He resumed police work, because it was what he had. There was nothing else he had the ambition to do and no point in trying to fight his fate. He hated working without Robbie, but there were days that he was not sure his mentor's return from retirement was any better.

It was not Robbie's fault. James could not help how he felt but he struggled not to take his despair out on anyone. That didn't always work. He'd nearly driven Lizzy Maddox away and was convinced that if Robbie hadn't taken on a bit of her guidance, he would have utterly failed his second bagman.

He would not fail as a detective. He had a legacy of legend to live up to and was determined not to let Robbie down and somehow make him proud that he'd bothered with James for so many years. He knew he was putting in too many hours, but it was all that kept him sane at this point and any physical discomfort caused by lack of proper food and sleep simply felt like another form of his long ago religious devotion. This was his atonement for his wayward spirit refusing to be ruled and his heart feeling jealous of Laura.

He was glad that she made Robbie happy and he loved them both dearly, but the loss of his hope to one day win Lewis's heart burned in the deepest, most locked-down part of his soul and he could not seem to banish that tyrant of a demon within.

His back ached, his bladder was full, his stomach growled in misery, and all that just focused his mind on the work. He finally had to give in to his bladder and made the trip down the hall to the loo.

Hathaway was not a man of frivolous superstitious notions, but his hackles rose as he exited the Gent's and made his way back to his office. The shadows moved as he approached and he checked his watch to see if he'd lost track of time.

An older man with satin white hair stood thumbing through the very file James had just laid on the desk. "I beg your pardon, Sir, but how did you get in here?" James asked calmly.

He didn't look up or acknowledge James other than to say, "There you are. I was looking for you, Lewis-cub."

James observed for a second. The man's clothing was unusual. The grey jacket had too square of shoulders and too broad of lapels. His shirt was an odd aubergine and his tie far too wide for fashion. "How did you get past the desk-sergeant?"

"Wrong question."

"Do you know DI Lewis, Sir? " James fired back, realizing what he'd called him.

At this point the gentleman lifted his face and James got a good look at the man. His breath hitched and he whispered, "Chief Inspector, Endeavor Morse, I presume."

The man smiled and tilted his head, "How about that. Not bad. The real question you should be asking is Why. That is always the question Lewis-cub. Why have I come all this way?"

"Perhaps you would be so kind as to clarify, Sir. Why are you in my office riffling through my files?" Hathaway asked politely. He realized at this moment that he must be hallucinating due to lack of sleep.

"Not afraid of Ghosts, I take it?" the older man asked as if impressed.

Hathaway sighed as if bored, "Not particularly. _'I have no fear of ghosts, and I have never heard it said that so much harm had been done by the dead during 6,000 years as it brought by the living in a single day._ Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo.'"

"_Hearts with one purpose alone. Through summer and winter seem. Enchanted to a stone. To trouble the living stream._" Morse quoted back at him.

"Yeats. You have a message for Robert then. Why speak to me instead?" Hathaway reached out and touched the doorframe, needing something solid to cling to.

"Because you would die for my Lewis and it is going to take someone with a heart like that to save him." Morse said with the hint of a smile.

"I don't understand. Save him from what?"

"Digging his own grave, again." Morse said banging the edge of the file on the desk to align the papers and laying it carefully back on the top of Hathaway's new lead pile.

"He's in no danger as far as I know. He's retired. Well, sort of. Just browsing cold cases these days," James said casually.

Morse leaned against the desk and folded his arms and crossed his legs. He stuck his tongue out in contemplation then his vivid blue eyes locked on James. "The thing about a person who has gotten away with murder for a long time is that they stop feeling guilt. Someone like that is harder to catch because they will delude themselves that some god or destiny has been on the killer's side to keep them free. This makes him or her more dangerous and cunning than most. In that mind or group of minds, he or they got away with it and it is perfectly logical to them that they will not only continue to do so. Should the need arise, and it always does, they get better at it with practice. As time goes by, smaller slights become the trigger of their dubiously warped necessity."

Hathaway smiled slightly at the logic of the man-who-was-not-there's words. "That's brilliant, Sir. You are not what I expected. Of course, you are just my own imagination tied to Robbie's description, but I had never thought of that perspective so what a fascinating enigma we have here."

"I can imagine it would be vexing, boy. The question is, will you make a leap of faith that I exist and let me help you, or will you use that clever mind of yours to deny me and condemn Lewis and thus yourself? I can't answer that for you, but have faith that I am privilege to both outcomes and I admit that I have gone to some trouble to secure the one I prefer to see played out, were I one to _spit in the face of time,_" Morse said quietly.

" _Before me floats an image, man or shade_. The debate of your existence isn't important. He isn't in any specific danger. He is just reviewing cases and generating possible leads. He isn't actively performing legwork. Sir," Hathaway said with surety.

Morse snorted with mirth and grinned. "Really? That's very reassuring, Detective Inspector." Morse picked up a pen from the desk and carefully balanced it on the thick edge of a framed picture of Robbie and James that Hathaway had tucked up on the shelf in his office. When he finished with this nonsense action, he turned to Hathaway again and asked, "Just how long have you known Robbie Lewis? Hmm?"

Hathaway moved around to his desk and sat heavily, leaning back and considering the supposed ghost. "Point taken, Sir."

"Good. Well then, I will be in touch. How about this one_… Call no man happy till he is dead_." He asked good-naturedly.

James frowned as the spirit was simply no longer before his eyes. He blinked in confusion. "Aeschylus," He mumbled as he rubbed his eyes.

James suddenly felt a little queasy and just for a moment, he laid his head down on his desk, face sheltered by his crossed arms. That was exactly how Sergeant Maddox found him the next morning. Her gentle touch and softly spoken, "Sir?" nearly resulted in a black eye. She laughed at his prickly apologies and redeemed him with a cup of hot sludge that tasted as if the spoon had dissolved in the brew with the copious amounts of sugar.

"Be glad himself didn't catch you sleeping at your desk again, Sir. He threatened to see to you the next…Oh Good morning, Sir," She babbled cheerfully.

Robbie grinned and then stopped in his tracks, smile wiped off his face for a look of disapproval as he took in the sight of Hathaway. "Bit of creative ironing?" He said, waving at Hathaway's multi-creased trousers.

James looked down and smiled self-evasively, "New directive. It makes us more approachable by the homeless, therefore increasing our potential witness pools."

"It will not enamor you to the Don's graces."

"That would technically be more incentive than deterrent."

"You look scruffy. Go home and take a shower. For Christ's sake, man. There's nothing on and you're killing yourself. Can't have you collapsing if a real case should come in. You and I will be having a pint this evening and you will sleep in a proper bed if I have to bloody hold you down." Robbie stated in no uncertain terms, genuinely worried and angry.

James had to bite his lip hard to keep the humor of his thoughts on that idea from erupting into inappropriate banter. "Indeed. Your tenuous wisdom is my command as always. Be back shortly."

"Take a nap. We will ring you up if we need any double-wicked candle lessons."

He spun just as he crossed the threshold of the office and leaned around the door with a cheeky grin, "Do keep him out of trouble, Sergeant. Don't believe the harmless old plod act for a second. He will have you elbows deep in questionable procedure and career dogging suspect chases if you give him an inch."

Lizzy grinned at him with affection, "No worries. I had to sign a paper. Anyone who associates with you two is required. Release of liability or some such? Well warned on his tarnished reputation, and I can manage, Sir."

Hathaway grinned, "Probably had to do with the case involving a pond of kack with revolving knives in it."

Lizzy deadpanned, "I heard of that one. They say a picture is worth a thousand, and all. I could sell tickets to a repeat performance for all us new lads basking in your uniquely demonstrative tutelage, Sir?"

"Was that pure cheek from my bagman?" He addressed Robbie.

"I believe it may have been, Detective," Robbie returned in mock shock.

Hathaway winked. "You're learning, then," He said with exaggerated pride.

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><p><em>I hope to update when I can. Let me know if you like it.<em>


	2. Chapter 2

**Morselling/Howlynn/Chapter2**

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><p>The shower was hot and the quick release of tension and frustration he'd also partaken in led to a fast nap. He awoke twisted in his sheets, starkers and with a slightly transparent observer.<p>

"What is this? Gregorian Chant…Madrigal of Hope…something called Tuvan throat singing? What the devil is Jazz fusion? Pray tell, what have they fused it with? Hopefully not the Guano music? For God's sake man, this stuff will rot your brain!" Morse complained.

Hathaway sat up sighed deeply, before yawning and letting frustration leak into his tone, "Just popping in for a quick music critique, Sir? And its Gnawa music, not guano, actually."

"Is this what young people are into now? What happened to Radiohead and that Coldplay. That was great compared to this."

"I doubt anyone else would care for my collection any more than you. Sir. Though for different reasons. Lewis still has your Wagner, in case you wonder. He forces it on me as punishment when I have annoyed him." Hathaway tilted his head and said no more, waiting for the ghost to explain what he wanted.

Morse smiled wide and amused. There was a cocky edge to his crinkled eyes. "And you play this? Christ, you're a merciless sod, aren't you? "

Hathaway snickered even though he tried not to, "I have been advised of such, Sir."

"_Hell is full of musical amateurs._ George Bernard Shaw," Morse said tossing the plastic cases with disdain.

James thought for a moment and slowly recalled the words he sought. "_I am fond of them, of the inferior beings of the abyss, of those who are full of longing."_

Morse looked at him in pure delight, "I suppose a man who can at least quote Wagner, must not be a complete heathen."

James watched the ghost silently. Morse seemed to be in no hurry to speak, he appeared especially interested in the mobile phone he'd picked up off the nightstand. James looked at his watch, and winced. "No offence, but I need that when you find a spot to break your studies of my personals."

Morse looked up. "Oh. Of course. Figured you'd ask by now," He replied, handing the phone back.

James checked in, gave several detailed instructions and resisted the urge to jump up and hurry back to work. "Still here?"

"Do you know anything about The Devil's Disciple case, John Peter Barrie? Look it up and become familiar with it."

Hathaway nodded and then blinked as the figure was simply no longer there. "Yep. Taking sleeping pills tonight," He vows as he gets up and begins dressing.

He sent Lizzy a text, asking her to look up the name in the database and by the time he returned to the office there was a stack of pertinent files awaiting him. He examined the material in disbelief that they actually existed. He tried to remember any point in which he'd heard this name, but nothing rang a bell.

To say he was calm at the discovery that his sub-conscious had somehow delivered information that he had encountered at no prior time, would have been stretching his self-deception. His stomach was not impressed that his mind kept asking fearfully if he had missed any obvious signs of a brain tumor.

He had no idea what he was supposed to discover because the suspect had been both convicted and killed after escaping from the mental facility he'd been remanded to for life. The file was all in order and seemed like a dead end. He'd been very creative in his use of disguise and evasion, but the man was dead. To what purpose was he led to this old case?

He paused for a smoke break. Maddox looked up at him and commented, "Were those the files you were looking for, Sir?"

"I honestly don't know. Just curious. I will let you know when I figure out why they were brought to my attention," James said as he searched for his fags, distracted that they were not in his coat.

Maddox looked pointedly at his waste bin.

James followed her gaze and grumbled, "Oh, yes. Of course." There were his cigarettes peeking up through the day's rubbish.

"Himself," Lizzy said with a shake of her head. "He worries about you," she added with a shrug as if to defend Robbie's actions.

"Well, that justifies six quid in the bin to make his point."

"Maybe you should listen? Sir?"

"Don't do that. Call me, Sir when you mean …" Hathaway trailed off with a smirk. "Forget it. Subtlety is the key to that, Sergeant. Trust me."

"I will take that under advisement, Sir." Lizzy replied with a blush.

"It is half-three. Were you not meant to pick up—"

"Oh. Oh no. Tony." She stood up and looked about frantically.

"Go on. I will log you out."

"You're a star, Sir. See you in the morning." She quickly grabbed her things and made her exit.

James stretched over her desk and logged her computer off. He nearly didn't notice it and it disconcerted him when he did look up and saw a brio perfectly balanced on the edge of the photo of him and Robbie. He reached up and very cautiously placed the pen back on his desk as if it might defy physics and leap back to its place on the shelf.

Hathaway stood in the wind and indulged his mind in explanations for his visiting specter. He didn't like most of his logical answers much better than the idea of a Ghost. Robbie pulled up in the car park and grinned sheepishly.

James took a last puff and raised the cigarette in victory before crushing it under his foot. "There is a ghost in our office that seems to take contravention to my addiction."

Robbie shrugged with mock innocence. "Clever fellow, him, then."

James gave him a side glance and a patient smile, "I don't know why you bother. After all this time."

"I've already buried one bagman," Robbie reminds him gruffly.

"Who was murdered. Smoking had no impact."

Robbie grunted and then mumbled, "By another hand or your own, still comes to the same. I cannot bury you. Don't you dare ever ask it of me. Now get in here and eat. Not enough flesh on you for the bloody smoke to cling to."

Hathaway smirked and felt warmth fill his core at the crotchety show that the older man may not understand his struggle, but that he did notice that it existed. He peeked in the bag Robbie held out to him. "Way to my heart," James ventured, knowing he was delicately crossing a line that Lewis would not see.

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><p><em>Thank you all for the kind reviews. I had not planned to put more up so quickly, but plans are fluid.<em>


	3. Chapter 3

_If you are interested in the background episode of Morse that this references, it is series seven, episode two. Thanks for reading._

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><p>Lewis wandered around his desk and looked over James' shoulder, then frowned. "That's one for the history books."<p>

"Mmmmm. You worked this case with Morse. What do you remember about it?" Hathaway asked distracted and sipped his coffee without looking up from the file.

Robbie blew his cheeks out and raised his eyebrows, "He was always a step ahead of us. Changed his appearance to such a degree that he could stand right in front of us and we never guessed. He was already injured when he came out of the house, threw off his weapon and demanded that he speak to Morse. He should have known better, but Morse stepped out of cover and stood there like a sitting duck. Barrie pulled a second gun on Morse at the end. Wearing a dress and ladies wig when he pulled the trigger. Thought I was watching Morse die at the time. He pulled the trigger and the chamber was empty. But then there was the sound of gunfire. Constable Curtis shot Barrie before he figured out the gun was empty. They called the ambulance, but he died during transport. What made you pull this file? "

Hathaway kept reading but mumbled, "Curiosity."

"Not our finest hour. We wasted our time protecting the wrong people while we chased red herrings and mostly our own tails. Don't think we ever really got to the bottom of it all. Devil worshipers and abusers and Christ I never saw the like," Robbie offered.

"Never got to the bottom of it? How so?" James looked up now, reading Robbie's reluctance.

Lewis shrugged and said after a sigh, "Oh I don't know. Morse swore there was more to it, but Strange wouldn't let him make any more trouble. There was a lot of media at the time. Everyone was pleased that Barrie was dead. Dr. Martin got a slap on the wrist and it all went away, for a while."

"For a while?" James prompted.

"It…well it's just silly. Just old rumors. Nothing concrete. It just got around the nick that the case was cursed. That everyone who touched it was visited by the devil. Some right away. Some much later." Robbie flopped in his chair and stuck his feet up on the desk and laced his hands together behind his head.

"Canon Appleton was known as the witch-hunter. He died the next year on Lammas day. It was natural causes, but it never explained why he'd drawn sigils all over himself in permanent marker, hours before he collapsed." Lewis said.

Hathaway snorted, "Witch hunter? A bit old-fashioned was he?"

"No. He was quite serious in his study of the matter but always carefully disputed the reality. Offered council to those who wanted to reform. Comforted the Trevors woman. Said if the devil was in Oxford, he'd be the last person to deny it when it would fill up the empty pews so easily. It was more of a hobby to him because of the…well, there was a following in Oxford, back then. Still might be." Lewis explained carefully.

"Not really? In a city of higher learning? Even Oxford toffs can't be that ridiculously senseless, " Hathaway scoffed with his best Cambridge snobbery in full blossom.

"The ones out prancing in the woods who watched Mr. Trevor burn to death might beg to differ. There were several Dons implicated. Only one ever admitted he was there that night. He swore they saw the real Satan and that he murdered Trevor with fire for betraying his disciple. Course his dark horned majesty used common petrol to do the deed. Never got to who was or was not there but these were all well respected men and the killer was dead. Doors closed every time we got close. Some say there is still a very tightly knit group of believers here. Who knows. Very next year, on the second anniversary, Holly Trevors was attacked and killed by some sort of animal. Thing was, there were never any reports of any other attacks and no packs of wild dogs found in the area. We found pieces of her."

Hathaway chews on his pen then sets the file down, "Okay, this bothers you, doesn't it? You know more, don't you?"

Lewis wipes his hand over his face, "I can't prove any of it. You have to understand that. Can't connect it. But it is connected. I know it. Everyone who worked on that case, had something bad happen. If it was just a few, I could just say it was bad luck. Just the normal tragedies of life. But it isn't. The next year, third anniversary, Nora Curtis, the one who shot Barrie and who had spent time with Dr. Martin got a bit of notoriety for bravery and a cushy new position down in London at NSY. She was killed in the line of duty within a few weeks of being promoted. Guess what day?"

"Were there others? A yearly event?" Hathaway looks horrified.

"That was the last of the anniversary deaths. But not the end of it. Every year there is someone. Mr. Willowbank took his own life three days after Canon Appleton died. PC Cobbs lost two children in a car crash. He was behind the wheel. Pringle, who was a Sergeant by the time it happened, lost his wife same year that I lost mine, also to a hit and run. There were four deaths by hit and run that year from the players club. Val was the last. We know the man responsible, but Val was seven blocks away from where DS Curtis was shot. London is a big place. Seems odd to me."

James frowned and commented, "That is highly suspect, isn't it?"

Robbie nodded then continued, " Morse and I talked about all these coincidences for years before he died, kept it just between us. But we never really stopped watching and waiting. Then he died. Heart and probably just his time, but there was something…odd…I don't know. I kept searching alone for a while. When I lost Val, I just didn't care anymore. Let the devil have Oxford." Robbie shrugged.

"And you sincerely believe in this curse, don't you, Robert?" Hathaway asked candidly.

Robbie met his eyes and held them as he whispered, "Aye. I can't say that I don't." He blushed at his admission.

"Must have taken you a very long time to believe in a curse. Not really your realm, there, curses?" James kept his face placid but it still conveyed astonishment.

"Didn't say I believed it was a curse, just don't have another name. Too many coincidental events and until I can explain it and find the real answer, curse is as good a name as any," Robbie stated suddenly dismissive and offended.

"You have more than is here, don't you?" James said pointing to the file.

Robbie sighed and nodded.

"May I see?" Hathaway asked confident the answer would be yes.

"Why?" Lewis demanded folding his arms.

"Maybe I could help? I am just interested," James said in confusion.

"Then, no."

Hathaway leaned back in his chair with amused ire on his face, "What do you mean, no? I thought you trusted me."

Robbie stood and his face was boiling with emotion. "Hard to trust a liar, Detective. I don't know what you are hiding, but I know that you are. So don't expect me to give over when you're playing games. Something put you on this and until I know what, you won't get another word from me."

James stood up horrified by these words, "Wait. Look, I can't tell you. Yet. I would, if I could."

Robbie smiled his poor innocent Geordie lad grin, "Feeling a bit off, me. Taking the afternoon. Enjoy your file."

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><p><em>I agree with the actors. I think Robbie and James need to argue more.<em>


	4. Chapter 4

Hathaway was frustrated at Robbie's anger, but it did give him some leads. He cross-referenced every name that appeared on the file. He printed pictures and searched up death records. The interviews and witnesses along with the names of all officers mentioned left him a thick file by late afternoon. He began to make notes on the fate of all the players. He hadn't expected Lewis to hold him to the pint that evening, but he couldn't say he wasn't disappointed. It was long dark outside by the time he got home, but he made a makeshift suspect board on his sitting room wall and began the labor of seeing patterns.

Lewis didn't come by with beer and take-away or seem to be concerned that James was going on three days with no sleep to speak of, so he used the time to work.

It was nearly three am by the time he felt his visitor behind him. "Nice start. I admit I am rather impressed. Didn't know you were this sharp. I wasn't sure you'd taken me seriously."

"Not you that cinched it, Sir. His reaction. I have only seen him afraid on rare occasion. That usually involves me and bullets, syringes or fire…or discussing deep feelings. This is an angry fear and if you are here, it must be bloody dire. If you aren't, then my madness may as well strike sooner as later." Hathaway said with a smirk as he pinned a photo of Dr. Ester Martin on the wall.

"You can call me Morse," his companion said lifting a photo and adding it to Hathaway's timeline.

James nodded and handed him a stack of photos as if to ask him to please continue. "You can call me Lewis-cub or James."

Morse chuckled, "You found all this in one day?"

"Tell me about the curse."

Morse wondered around and looked at Hathaway's flat as he sorted pictures and made small notes explaining who was who. He took frequent breaks and occasionally adjusted fact elements as he spoke, "It was Canon Appleton who put me back on the trail. He was a good man and a truly peaceful soul. I liked him. They found him on his knees, as if in prayer. People had come and gone for hours, thinking not to disturb his worship. They finally tried to rouse him when it was time for his orchestra to practice. Arms all marked up with funny sigils and old ones that hadn't washed off. Didn't look like a heart attack but that was what they ruled. He was afraid of something. Said in his journal, 'The devil loves the bells of Oxford and is ringing them himself.'"

James blanched at the nebulous web of memory those words stirred. "Very odd. I was under the impression that he didn't take it all as more than the imagination of the disturbed," Hathaway agreed.

Morse nods and lifts a picture of James and Robbie glancing at James as if something clicked, "So was I, until the good Canon died. Three days later Willowbank topped himself, and there was no question of that, but he had the same symbols all over his own arms."

Hathaway frowned, "That isn't mentioned in the report."

"What does he call you? Oh yes, Clever-Clogs. Well spotted."

James shrugged at the praise and automatically said, "I stumble, but sometimes I do it in the right direction."

Morse crinkled his brow in an amused way, "Where did you hear that?"

James squinted and blinked his tired eyes. "Robert said it."

"Did he?" Morse asked rhetorically as if it pleased him.

"And you think whatever caused all of this, is now after Robbie?"

Morse only raised his eyebrows as his acknowledgement, then tilted his head and hooded his eyes to ask, "How long have you known that you are in love with him?"

Hathaway paused, cleared his throat but doesn't concede the statement.

Morse smiled and added with pity, "Bet he hasn't got a clue. Lewis always was a bit thick at times."

"No, he isn't. I hide it well and he's not…It would simply never occur to him," Hathaway stated quietly filled with defeat but with no anger.

"God, what hell you put yourself though. I was like that. Always pining for what I could never have. He's a good man, Lewis, always was. Can't believe how old he got," Morse said randomly.

James looked at him and said with irritation, "You put some of those lines there, you know. Heart attack? For God's sake, they had surgery that would have fixed you up for years. You had been in hospital recently. It wasn't a surprise. You should have been there, you know. He was alone when he lost her. His wife. Would have been better if he'd had you to …help."

Morse nodded as if he agreed and then shook his head. "You're a blunt sod. Aren't you?"

"It's been regularly mentioned in my reviews. Did you have them on your arms, Sir? The protective spells?"

Morse shook his head and simply said, "No."

Hathaway shrugged and took a deep breath, holding it and furrowing his brow as he looked at a photo, "Who was Heironymous St John?"

"He pronounced it Sin-Jin. Bookstore owner. Occult bookstore. Still in business. Looks like he's a hundred and thirty. Crusty, snarly bastard and knows the truth. He's a key to this. If I could have gotten my hands on his mailing list, we'd know who was who. He's not important but he's the one that would get us our connections. Wiley old tosser. Never could crack him," Morse said with regret.

"Can't you just pop in now? You have no trouble with the nick or my bedroom." Hathaway slouched and cocked his head with a bit of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Morse laughed and smiled as he explained, "Can't get in. Some of that scribbly old rubbish actually works. Whole place is a trap for things like me. There are a fair few stuck in that place too, from the sound of screams. I shudder to imaging what he's undertaking with them."

"Supernatural collaborator thwarted by mumbo-jumbo. Pity," James commented.

"I didn't know he would need me, you know. I died long before his…Mrs. Lewis. Very clever of you to catch it though. There just wasn't anything for me to fight for. I let it all pass me by and in my desperation, I grasp for the wrong thing, every time. My best friend was the next pint and the bottom of a bottle," Morse admitted, eyes cast down.

James studied the haunted man for a moment in silence, chewing the inside of his cheek, with a sigh he returned his attention to his wall and changed the subject. "It is still a business, isn't it? I could get in?"

"Well, sure, but it wouldn't do you much good. Not like he would hand that infernal list over to a copper out of the kindness of his heart. Never bothered him when we did demand them. He only gave the appearance of compliance. Gave up some of his washed up trouble makers. Not the big boys. Sin-Jin does as he pleases, always has," Morse explains with incredulity.

"Was your death…part of this? Lewis believes it is, you know."

Morse looked toward the ceiling as if considering his answer, "I will tell you about it when it's time."

Hathaway studied the photo and a smile slowly crawled up his face. "I may be in need of some books to better understand this case, Sir. I bet he'd love a fallen priest in his virtual Rolodex?"

"I recruited you to dissuade Lewis from further pursuit of this, not to become involved yourself if he were not directly under threat. Don't poke the monster with a stick, James"

James shrugged. "You never got to the bottom of it."

"I don't believe there is a bottom to it."

James slouches further, his back bending forward into the posture of the elderly and his lips tighten. He examines the pictures and scraps in his hands before replying. "Even if I could, just because I talk him into dropping the matter, that doesn't make him safe. You have implied that this group has methodically brought some sort of harm, albeit paranormal in design, to everyone who worked this case. The others didn't continue to investigate and they were still allegedly targeted. There is only one path to rid the threat of these people from his life. They have been left to fester."

"What good do you think it will do him, if it gets you killed? I want you to spot them and steer him away. Know all this backward and forward, then use that knowledge to keep him safe. I won't allow this."

"You can hardly stop me, Morse."

"Of course I can. I will find someone else. Laura could probably talk some reason into him. She's always been a sensible girl." Morse said with conviction that it would hit home.

James grimaced at the statement but in seconds he had his face under control. "It won't stop me if I believe it to be the proper course of action."

Morse throws his hands up and spins around in frustration before shouting, "Don't be stupid. If it were the proper course of action I would be encouraging you to proceed."

"You are helping me put this together. Are you not?"

"I am helping you become familiar with all of this so you have the knowledge to protect him. That's all. You don't have to seek this out or get in the middle of it. I don't want you to. Talk him out of it. Protect him if he won't leave it be. Don't egg him on, lad," Morse reasoned.

James said with cool surety, "If there is someone or something out there responsible for all of these deaths, I have a duty to—"

"Don't think for one second that getting involved with these nutters is going to come out well. It won't. Look around you, man. Look at those faces. Evil doesn't show that it is evil. I will stop you if I must. Don't force me."

James sighed and fished in his pocket for a cigarette. His voice is a resigned calm,"I did read theology to be a priest. I have a passing knowledge of the rights of exorcism, Sir. How will you stop me? You knew what you were getting when you contacted me. You said someone who would die for him. It's why you are here." He lit his cigarette and pulled the smoke into his lungs deeply and held it.

Morse eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms and leaned forward slightly, hostile and full of menace. "Don't threaten me, Detective Inspector Hathaway. Exorcism indeed. If I had known what a stubborn little knob you were going to be, I would have kept my own council."

Hathaway smirked and then chuckled, "Thank you, Sir. For the legacy."

Morse furrowed his brow and his laser blue eyes focused on James with surprise, "Come again?"

Hathaway blew smoke skyward and said, "You must have passed it on. I have heard you were the most stubborn bastard to ever grace the nick and only Lewis could give you a run for your money. That is, until I showed up."

"Oh for Christ's sake," Morse said and he was gone.

James stared where the apparition had been. "Ah. Must be about time for me to wake up then," He mumbled into the empty room. He sat down on his couch and began writing in a small notebook.

**_I, James Hathaway, do solemnly provide this confession of the acts that have led to my demise. I have been contacted by a wraith of Chief Inspector Endeavor Morse, and it is my belief that he is real. I have three explanations for this possibility. The first is a probable medically based condition, be it tumor or the onset of some mental break with reality. My second possibility is that Ghosts exist. The final possibility in this equation is simply an intuitive hunch. I believe he has been sent to collect me and guide me. Some would perhaps deem him to be my Reaper. It is my intention to document these interactions to the best of my…_**

* * *

><p><em>To me, if I began seeing a ghost on a regular basis, I would be concerned. James is struggling to reconcile what he sees with his logic. When people are close to death, for whatever reason, they often hold lengthy conversations with people who are not there, or at least can't be seen by their carers. I am offering no judgement one way or the other, but I do know it is a disconcerting experience and have used it. No, he doesn't want to die, but after seeing the fate of these many people and having no realistic answer, he simply wants there to be some record, just in case he can't explain later, should either Morse be real or his possible illness progresses. Thank you all for your input and no, there won't be any ghost Val, but there is an explanation later. <em>


	5. Chapter 5

James could not have concealed the exhaustion that haunted his face with anything less than the attire of a plague doctor. Laura looked up and gave him a smile which turned instantly to concern. "Feeling alright, James?"

James frowned and jutted his chin forward slightly in annoyance, "Fine. Why do you ask?"

"Oh sorry, got the wrong one. Mistook this lot for the corpse. The blood fooled me for a moment but now that you turned up, I see the dead do walk. "

James quirked his lips slightly to acknowledge her humor and concern. "Restless night. I'm fine, thank you. What have you got?" He waited as she let her eyes twinkle. "The actual body, doctor."

She started to say something more but changed her mind and began apprising him of the details. Lizzy Maddox and Robbie Lewis arrived together and joined in for the tail end of Laura's initial findings, "so this was not an accident because of the ligature marks on his ankles. His feet were bound and his hands have adhesive residue but no abrasions. When you fall, you reach out and try to break the impact. Hands, elbows, knees all catch the devil. This is murder dressed up as a clumsy mishap. His face took the full impact of the fountain. Didn't die instantly, but was more than likely unconscious as death crept up. May have died of the wound, may have drowned. It's a toss up until I get him to the morgue. They stood and watched or waited for him to get here. Ciggy butts in the grass. Plus, he has no ID."

"Oh, Christ." Robbie suddenly cursed.

James turned and at once understood the look on Robbie's face. "You know him?"

Robbie stood and nodded, pulling a face and giving a heavy sigh. "I knew of him. Name's Timothy Perry. His picture is all over. Estate Agent."

James held his breath for a moment as he searched for the name in his memory. His chin lifted as he realized where he'd seen the name recently. "Must have sold the wrong house."

Robbie kept his face blank as he replied, "Aye, he bloody well tried once. For certain."

The body had been transported and James was delegating who would notify the family and begin preliminary questions to friends and associates. It was lunch time and Robbie headed to Lizzy's car when James called across the car park, "With me please, Robert."

Lewis narrowed his eyes and glanced an apologetic look at Maddox before ambling across the way, hands shoved in his pockets in slow annoyed protest. James smirked as his former Governor flopped into the seat next to him and took out his frustration on the seatbelt coupling. "Where to, Sir?" Robbie asked facetiously.

"Pub, Lewis. We have some thinking to do." Hathaway said enjoying the startled response from Lewis.

By the time they had reached the pub, the atmosphere had gone from astonishment to a tetchy silent anger. All it had taken was Hathaway saying two words on the way. "Mill Cottage."

Hathaway glared at Robbie and Robbie glowered firmly at the bottom of his pint. Hathaway had much less patience with Robbie's moods since his promotion. "Should I bring in Innocent on this? Or shall we do this as friends?"

Robbie snorted and looked to the left at a group of colleagues out for a quick meal and a few laughs.

James waited. His face was perfectly blank as his heart broke.

"You saw them too. His tattoos? Occult symbols of protection, no?"

Robbie just shrugged in disgust and glared at James.

"Okay. Yesterday, you were within your rights to keep your own council on this subject. That changed four hours ago when a name in your players club turned up with his head bashed in by a killer fountain. My options just narrowed at your response to my counting on years of what I mistakenly called friendship. Apologies for the error." James stood and threw his keys on the table. "Take the car. I need a walk."

"You need to sleep and get over your…" James didn't hear the last of Robbie's words.

He had nearly sprinted the first two blocks without seeing anything but red. His mind whirled and saw only that he had misjudged the warmth Lewis had extended him all these years. Hell, the man didn't even consider him a friend enough to confide in him.

A voice called to him in distress and startled him back into the present a split second before near tragedy.

A car horn, brakes screaming and a hard bump on his leg, knocked him to the pavement hard and stunned him back to reality. He waved off the driver and a bloke who helped him to his feet. He shooed them away, both offering the vague apology and wincing slightly at the pain as he put weight on the leg. He had to appear sheepishly embarrassed but fine in order to assuage the concern of the few onlookers who had witnessed his stupidity. He was even less pleased to be suddenly joined by the man who wasn't there and firmly shuffled away from the mishap.

"Well. As much as I will be pleased for you to join me, Lewis-cub, I never imagined you incapable of the advanced concept of street crossing."

James looked down at Morse and barely moving his lips said low and fiercely, "May as well get on with it. I know what you are."

"Don't talk to me in public. They will have you carted up to Radcliffe for unimaginably boring tests and food. Trust me on this one, you don't want to know." Morse said with a smirk and a wink.

James walked on silently, his companion keeping up though he didn't seem to be matching his pace. "Here! I need a drink and you are the best hope I have." Morse's cold arm took hold of his and James allowed himself to be guided into a little pub and stood with Morse as the ghost ordered whisky to the back of the barman.

The man evidently heard Morse and assumed the voice belonged to Hathaway. He set the glass on the bar and poured. James paid for it and let Morse guide him to a table that had a high back bench and a view of the street.

"There now. Get that in you and you will feel better," Morse said soothingly.

James complied, taking a large swallow and shivering as it went down. "Not really the whisky sort," He admitted softly.

"He is right. You need sleep. You handled him all wrong," Morse said.

"Doesn't really matter," Hathaway replied.

"What's gotten into you? You're acting all…Me!"

"I understand you a bit more. I don't blame you. For…just letting it…go. I am such a stupid fool."

Morse frowned, "You will have to be more specific."

James swallowed another gulp. "I always thought he and I were friends at least. Not that I ever deserved it."

Morse sighed and acted put upon. "Oh for God's sake. He bloody adores you. Don't get your knickers in a twist over that. You're the one getting him off balance throwing my words at him and then pushing him like a suspect. Finish that and then we will go kiss and make up."

Hathaway finished the glass and set it on the table. He felt in his pockets for breath mints and sighed that he came up empty handed. He waited a few more moments before resolve and pure will got him back on his feet and off toward the nick. He'd almost walked off the limp by the time he got there and he felt warm and had a slight buzz from alcohol and exercise.

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><p><em>Thank you for your comments!<em>


	6. Chapter 6

Lewis watched Hathaway make his way through the main floor to his office and stopped his conversation to follow James into the office. Robbie closed the door and folded his arms in disapproval. "You are limping and …Christ man, is that … " He stepped close to Hathaway and inhaled then looked both disappointed and mortified. "Whisky. What the bloody hell is the matter with you? You get caught with that on your breath and you can kiss your whole career off. Jesus…this is… what did you do?"

Hathaway sat down and rubbed his temples, "Needed a little pick me up after the car hit me. You're right, I'd knock off early, but I have a body and need to find the reason it isn't an estate agent any longer. Now, you can help me, or you can sod the hell off."

"You were hit by a car?"

"MMMmm. Just a bump. My fault and I have already had the scathing lecture, thanks. Leg feels a bit like mushy peas." He said hiking his trouser leg up to see the damage. The swelling and bruising were much worse than expected.

Robbie cursed and stuck his head out the door to send Lizzy for a bag of ice. He returned and squatted down to get a closer look.

"Nothing's broken. I just wasn't paying attention for a second. It's fine."

"That's it. I am taking you home and you are going to sleep."

James took a breath to object but Robbie held his hand up, pointing his finger at him like a father to a naughty child, and said very quietly, "Or I will let Innocent close enough to get a whiff of your breath."

James looked down at Robbie with pure betrayal in his eyes. Lizzy brought a bag of ice and took one look at the two of them and made a quick exit. Robbie stood and with a warning look, followed her and returned with his coat, keys and no nonsense on his face. "Come on. You."

The drive sported no conversation, both of them full of anger. Morse appeared in the back seat and Hathaway slumped in his seat and ignored him.

"This is how you make up? No bloody wonder you are single," Morse offered in a friendly tone.

James lowered the visor and glared in the vanity mirror at Morse.

"Fine, then just pretend to apologize and let him pretend to accept it and pout at each other in a more friendly fashion," Morse instructed helpfully.

James snorted and then looked away.

"You are both five years old. What a waste of time." He vanished from the moving car.

Robbie parked in front of the younger man's flat. He leaned his head forward and softly said, "I didn't think I'd ever have to do this again. I won't do it very many times, just so you know. Get it out of your system fast, lad, because I can't watch this again."

"Watch what?"

"Morse. Me for a few years. It's no good."

"I think he had his reasons." James opened his eyes and looked at Robbie.

"We both had the same reason. But you. You don't even date, lad. Unless there is something you aren't telling me? Has someone broken your heart?" Robbie asked.

James turned his face away and opened the car door to get away. He paused and asked low and full of rasping emotion, "Did you like him?"

"Like who?"

"Morse. Was he your friend?"

Robbie sat for a few heartbeats, face full of confusion as if the question was the last thing he'd expected and couldn't wrap his mind around it. "Sometimes."

James sucked in his breath and held it as the weight of that admission skittered through his heart like icy claws. People who were sometimes friends didn't rate very high in the James book of loyalty. It confirmed to him that if Morse was just thought of as a friend some of the time, then he must rate in the pool of words that included colleague or acquaintance. "Thanks for the lift, Detective Inspector."

Robbie bristled and then got out himself and followed James to his door without invitation. James opened his door then spun around, "Did you need anything else, Sir?"

Robbie shoved him to the side and bullied his way into the flat. James took a deep breath as Robbie stopped in his tracks at his incriminating wall decorations. "Shit. This just keeps getting worse!" Robbie cursed.

"Tea?" James asked blandly.

* * *

><p><em>Lol, I very much hope you liked it. This is a tiny chapter so will have another up before the day is out. It will get a bit more haphazard after today. Thank you again for reading. <em>


	7. Chapter 7

Robbie was livid. James tilted his head and shrugged. James shuffled down the hall to the loo. It gave Robbie a moment to calm down and James a moment to compose himself. He reached in the cubby above the sink and swallowed two sleeping pills. He was too tired to sleep and he needed to shut his mind down.

Robbie was silently scrutinizing his timeline as James exited. He joined James at his breakfast bar, sitting gingerly on one of the two stools.

James took two glasses from the cabinet and brought out a bottle of highland single malt he'd had sitting around for some time. "And by tea, I mean something of amber hue and technically distilled rather than actually brewed." He poured himself a large measure and hovered above the second glass waiting for a yes or no.

"I'm driving," Robbie said with venom.

"Suit yourself." James brought the drink to his lips and swallowed. It burned and he took another gulp. He positioned the second stool around the other side of the counter so he could face Robbie. Hathaway eased himself onto the second stool, wincing at how his leg protested any attempt at bending.

"I don't understand. You look like utter hell, man." Robbie tried to say calmly, but just sounded like he was patronizing.

"As opposed to consummate, categorical, or unmitigated hell? Utter is a rather redundant adjective, don't you think?" James smirks with aggressive disregard for consequences. He's in pain and cornered and he can't seem to help lashing out.

The arrow hits home. Robbie knows that James is hurting and that he's hiding a whole world more things than Robbie expected, but he feels like he's trying to walk on a pit of tar and senses everything between he and the lad, bogging down to an end.

He lets his fear and sorrow crack his voice, pleading for James to meet him part way. " You look up this case. You demand I tell you things I would rather not. You have all that going on over there without telling me a word. Then we have a murder that happens to be a name from that old case. You say we aren't friends. You storm off, get hit by a sodding car, and now you are channeling bloody Morse! What the hell is going on here?"

James let pity leak into his expression and his voice quiets and gentles, "I honestly don't know, Robbie. But, I don't think it's very good."

"Yeah. Crossed my mind, that." Robbie finally said. He took the second glass and poured them both more. "We need to sort this out. I can't stand it."

James dropped his eyes and nodded.

"You know you can trust me. Have I not proved it to you by now, James?"

James was on his third glass by the time he spoke. "Do you believe in Ghosts?"

Robbie moved the bottle out of James' reach and spoke with acid dripping, "Are you having me on?"

Standing behind Robbie, Morse brought his finger to his lips and shook his head.

James face looked so very wretched with his lips trying to smile and his eyes filled with ache and sorrow.

Slowly, Robbie melted at this lost man before him. "I'm sorry, soft lad. Please talk to me?"

James nodded, and tried to start several times, but kept changing his mind. Finally he asked kindly,"I know you cared for him. What was he like? Morse?"

Robbie stuttered, "Why all these questions? What's this have to do with him?"

James bit his thumbnail but didn't say more.

Robbie took a deep breath and thought for a moment. "Okay, well yeah. Course we were friends. I should have been better to him. He was frustrating, hard as nails, drank far too much for far too long, bad tempered and I think he was the loneliest man I ever knew. Also, he was the most purely good man as well. He had a beautiful singing voice. Sung in a choir when I first met him. The world was not very kind to him and I wasn't always very kind either, but I think he knew, how much he meant to me. I hope he did. I wasn't a very good friend sometimes, but I was loyal to the bone. Whatever he felt or didn't toward me, well, that would be anybody's guess. Even that last time I saw him, he wouldn't let me…he…he only cared about the case. So I finished it. That was all the goodbye I got. He put up with me. That was the best he could do, I figured. We all screw things up sometimes. All of us. I don't want this to be one of them. Please."

James closed his eyes and smiled. "I may not be able to help it. I may have already done and that…that…has broken my heart." He held his glass up in an ironic toast. "I can promise you that I won't ever leave you without explanation. Without some kind of reckoning for it all." He looked behind Robbie at Morse and tipped his glass with a nod. Morse looked as if he'd been punched in the gut.

"James, you are scaring the hell out of me."

James nods. "Yes. "

"Can't you see, I just want to help?"

James held out his glass with a wiggle and waited for Robbie to pour. When Robbie finally did, James said gently, "Me too. Give me the file. It's my only hope now, you see."

"I don't want you involved. Not that case."

James glanced toward his wall and pointed unsteadily. "I already am. I love the bells of Oxford. No matter who is ringing them."

Robbie paled at that, "You better tell me, lad. Stop all this dodgy innuendo and get down to the meat."

James said with a bit of a slur now, "I think I should go to sleep, before I throw up." He slowly began to tumble, obviously too drunk to maintain his balance any longer.

"Dammit, lad." Robbie jumped to keep James from falling as he poured himself off the stool and the first weight on his injured leg in almost an hour wasn't very steady.

"I'm alright, Robert. Just a bit… untidy." He slung his arm around the shorter man and grinned apologetically.

"I think you're half-mortal, Lad. You put away most of that bottle in an hour. Be lucky if you don't end up…steady there…I'm getting you to bed and then getting some ice on that leg. You should have kept it elevated." Robbie said as they bumped into the hallway as much as navigated it.

Robbie helped James discard most of his clothes and step into a pair of pajama bottoms. The older man's lips pursed as he got another look at the bruising. "Lucky you didn't bugger up a knee."

James giggled, "Lucky the driver was paying attention. Could have ended up looking like poor old Tim Perry. Brain bits on the outside."

Robbie blanched and had to swallow to keep that image from making him wretch the whisky he'd consumed but he kept his voice steady and soothing, "I will be out there if you need anything. Get some rest, lad."

James was already nearly unconscious, "Mmmmm, right away, Sir. Do tell Morse to stay out of my room."

Robbie paused, sure it was probably nonsense, but he got goose-pimples never the less.

* * *

><p><em>Just some funny little bits for you:<em>

_What does the second Doctor and the first episode of Morse have in common?_

_Patrick Troughton - The Second Doctor was the handyman George Jackson in the first episode, 'The Dead of Jericho' and he was the one who slipped the key through the post slot. _

_Colin Dexter appears in almost every episode of Morse. He never speaks, but he is in the background. _

_The final Oxford location for Morse: he collapses from a heart attack in the quad of Exeter College, Oxford._

_The flute in the theme music spells out Morse in Morse code, most often. Sometimes, it spells the name of the murderer and on occasion an innocent person to throw you off._

_John Thaw never liked beer. _


	8. Chapter 8

While Hathaway slept, Robbie studied the makeshift array of papers and photos scattered on the wall. "Bloody, hell." Robbie whispered as he recognized the handwriting on some of the notes. He looked around the room as every hair on the back of his neck stood up.

Robbie reached out and touched the elegant block handwriting of a man who spent years printing neatly inside the squares of crossword puzzles. "Oh, James. What have you done?" He asked the empty room, tears springing to his eyes.

It was after midnight by the time Hathaway began to stir. Robbie took a glass of water and some Paracetomol and sat down on the edge of the younger man's bed. "Take this and drink all of this."

"I'm so sorry." Hathaway mumbled as he sat up holding his head and following Robbie's instructions.

"Well, you ought to be, canny lad. "

"At least it let me sleep, though I can't say it did me much good at the moment." Hathaway looked up and suddenly realized that Robbie was still there. "How long was I out? Why are you still here?"

"About ten hours. I don't like you drinking like that, but knowing what I think I know about what you have done, that was just about the thing I wanted to do first off too," Robbie said with disgust.

James scrunched his eyes, confused. "God. That sentence is making my head go round. I don't know what you mean. What I've done?"

"Don't. Alright? Just don't. You've no idea what you have been messing with. I thought you of all people would be smarter than this, you being almost a priest and all, " Robbie snarled.

"You're angry. I don't understand. What exactly do you think I have done?"

Robbie stood up and paced a few steps from the bed and then turned back, "Don't lie to me. I know what you have been dabbling in and you couldn't have done anything that would have made you more vulnerable to these people. How could you, lad. I don't have a clue how to protect you now."

"I honestly don't know what you mean," James denied in shock.

Robbie put on his grimace that used the same muscles as a smile and said as if he was wounded, "It was the handwriting that gave you away. I'd know it anywhere. I would have thought your lot would think it was a sin."

James looked at him blankly, then his brows furrowed in offence. "My lot?"

"For Christ's sake, man." Robbie sighed and gestured for James to follow.

James got up and limped into his sitting room. Robbie pulled a note off his board and handed it to James. "Want to keep pretending that that is your handwriting?"

James looked up at the clutter on his wall, "I didn't do all of this. Shit." He wrapped his arms around his head. "What should I do, Sir?"

"I have no idea, lad—"

James rubbed his temples and searched the room. "Not you, Robert. Sorry. "

"Then who else do you think you're bloody talking to?"

Morse was suddenly there, looking sheepish and casting fondly amused glances at Robbie. "Oh alright. He won't believe you. I have tried to make him see me in the past and he is too bloody-minded to just look at me."

"Well, he evidently saw your handwriting. He knows there is something up." James throws sarcastically toward a seemingly empty chair holding up the note and pointing at it with a look on his face that meant this was obviously Morse's fault.

"James?" Robbie is horrified as he watches James speak to an empty room.

"What should I say to him, then?" James pleads.

Morse moved close to Robbie who was digging in his pocket for his phone to call Laura. Robbie's hand was shaking as he tried to scroll through his phone. James reached out and put his hand very lightly on Robbie's and took the phone out of his hand.

Robbie's chin quivered and when he looked up at James, his eyes were misty with the pain behind his worry. "James…Lad…"

"I know. I am not saying you are even wrong. Everything going through your head right now, could be. All I am asking is that you talk to me for a few minutes first. I may have gone mad. I may be ill. My biggest fear…is worse than that. " James said calmly.

"How? What have you bloody done? You can't play with that stuff. It's not a sodding game." Robbie lamented as if he already knew the answers.

"You think I conjured him? Is that it?"

"I don't want to know. I don't care. Just undo it, now."

"If you feel any form of friendship for me, please just listen. He contacted me. Not the other way around," James explained.

Robbie looked as if he were slapped in the face, "feel any sort of…you are me best mate you daft gadgie! Is this what you've been up a height about lately? You had a question about … you must be micey, lad, if you can't even remember I don't walk through fire for just anyone."

Morse chimed in just then, "For God's sake, Lewis. Speak English. I did make a valiant attempt to teach you rudimentary grammar. I despair at your Geordie regression!"

Hathaway repeated it word for word in a near whisper.

Lewis looked up at him eyes wide. "It can't be him, James. They lie. Whatever you think you are talking to. It isn't him."

"I sincerely hope that isn't true," James said sadly.

Robbie came up to him and studied James. "Send it away."

"I don't know how in the first place and in the second, I am not sure I want to."

"I don't understand."

James nodded, "I know. Look, if he is here, you have to consider that there must be a reason. If he isn't here, then…Robbie…the alternative is …"James looked like the last thing he wanted to say was about to come out of his mouth, "the only other answer. The most likely answer, in fact, is that I am dying. Brain tumors do run in my family, so it isn't as farfetched as Ghosts, but … I gave last rights to a man. He lingered for three days and swore there was something in the room he was terrified of. By the third day, whatever he was talking to was more comfort to him than we were. I do believe in guides. I do believe that something is here."

There was horror on the older man's face. "Jesus, no."

"I'm sorry."

"We will get you an appointment. The best of the best. We will fight this." Robbie said with pure surety.

James looked at his hands. "No. I won't fight it. Part of me isn't enough to fight for. I could end up like that boy from our first case. When you retired from retirement. No. I accept God's will, Robert. No matter the answer. I like the Ghostly Governor came back from the beyond to save you much better than I do the idea that you would spend a moment…mourning."

Robbie sat down his face a study in catatonia.

"Whatever the answer, He says you are in danger and no matter the reason. I will save you. Please, help me."

Morse appeared next to James. "His heart is going into arrhythmia. You are killing him, you fool. I told you he couldn't take losing you! "

James shouted, "Then help me convince him!"

Morse nodded, "I will tell you what to say."

"Johnson called you Bob and you hated it." James repeated adding, "Probably as much as I hated Jim."

"Stop it." Robbie pleaded.

"You threw a tape in the river for him. Didn't tell him for years?"

Robbie swallowed, "Mistake there demon, I never told him."

"He says he figured it out all by his little chief detective self and he knows what was on it. He never thanked you." James explained.

"Please don't do this. Stay with me James." Robbie said dramatically.

"Oh. Oh, You think…of course. No he's not in me Robert. He's over there. Here." James took Robbie's hand and stuck it in the middle of Morse's chest area.

Morse complained at once, "Hey. Don't stick your hands in…"

Robbie said in pure astonishment, "It's cold."

"Yes." James smiled in wonder.

"That's it, boy. He's calming down now. Keep talking to him. Tell him that if he will just accept that I am me and that I am here, then all the other possibilities become moot," Morse said with a roll of his eyes as Robbie moved his hand in and out of the Inspector's chest.

James relayed the idea.

"Oh, God. Sir?" Robbie croaked as he couldn't stop the emotion of grief renewed stinging his eyes and he quickly tried to brush the spillage away but new ones just took their place, "You know I loved you dearly, Sir. But Why? Why would you put this on James? You should have come to me. Why?"

Morse chuckled and looked at Robbie with pure pride, "You see that, James? Got the first question right…didn't he?"

James smirked and agreed.

Robbie grew wary, and sniffing he asked, "What did he say?"

"He bragged that you got the most important question right on the first try. I evidently need more training." Hathaway admitted with a bashful pleasure. "He says he's very proud of you."

"Oh, give over, you had me on for a bit. Now I bloody know it isn't you, Sir." Robbie challenged.

"I, on the other hand, drink like an amateur, have disgraceful taste in music and need my hand held crossing the street. He wants to know why you put up with me." James said then shrugged his shoulders and addressed the air to Robbie's left, "I paraphrased, Sir."

"Why didn't he come to me, lad?"

"He says you won't look at him."

"I just stuck me hand in him, didn't I"

James shrugged, "I don't know how it works, Robbie. The barkeep heard him, but nobody at the Pub saw him either."

"Back to it then. Why?"

"Says he promised to always protect you, just like you would me. He came back to warn us that it is all starting again. There is a new Disciple in Oxford."

"If he knows so much, why doesn't he just bloody well tell us who it is?"

James smirked and cleared his throat, "He wishes me to explain that he's a bloody ghost and not a genie, Father Christmas or the sodding tooth fairy."

Robbie looked up suspiciously, "You paraphrased again."

James looked at the ghost and sighed with disapproval, "Consider it a gift. He appears to have been a bit temperamental?"

Robbie looks shocked and jumps a little as a display of books topples to the ground. "What about me Val? Can she…"

Morse sighs in disgust, "See? This is why you were not supposed to tell him. Every answer is a new can of worms. I am in a bit of trouble here. Mrs. Lewis has a peaceful spirit and I am … not supposed to be here if I followed the rules."

James snickered. Robbie looked offended.

"No. Sorry. Was Morse a bit of a trouble maker?"

Robbie shrugged, "Aye. He would have made Chief Super seven or eight times over if he wasn't."

"He says Val is a peaceful spirit. She wouldn't want to…er…break the rules." James explained carefully.

Robbie sighs, both frustrated and disappointed. "Can he give her a message?"

James gets an odd look on his face and tears spring to his eyes now as he relays, "They watch. They know. All we feel, they feel with us. He says not to mourn because it makes them sad too. He says she knows everything. Including that he's here and that is going to be a problem if we don't stop it."

Robbie laughed. He shook his head and said, "I need a drink, lad."

James exhaled softly, "Me too."


	9. Chapter 9

"She wanted to come, Robert. It's okay to miss her, but you have to try to stop grieving so," James explained quietly.

"But Morse came?"

"He has been here several times. He's harder to contain than some souls. He says he was always restless and he had to check on his car." James laughed then relayed, "He meant that as a joke."

Robbie glares at the empty chair supposedly occupied by Morse and said firmly, "No he didn't."

"He says it is nice that you miss them. That is reassuring but the deep grief, the sorrow…it hurts them, because there is nothing they can do about it." James adds carefully.

"Why, is he here?" Robbie asked again.

James swallowed, "Because he thought he could help. To stop you from pursuing this case any further. He says it was his mistake to ever involve you and he needed me because you wouldn't listen to him."

Robbie looked over his shoulder at the wall. "Could have left me a note? Evidently."

"Recently acquired skill." James leans over and says with a charming smile, "All my crosswords have suspiciously been filled out too."

"Yeah, I had a little snoop while you were imitating cabbage." Lewis admits. "Found a wee book that I maybe shouldn't have read. At all. I only read a couple pages, but it was enough to make me blush." Robbie handed it to him in more of a flinging way, looked down and sardonically asked, "Should we pick out china?"

James reddens, sits up quickly putting distance between he and Lewis and said, "I didn't mean you to read that, if I was alive. I just didn't want to leave you…with no answers."

Robbie clears his throat and fidgets. "I don't know what to think about some of the things you said there."

James bends his head forward and winces, "Yeah. Wishing it was a brain tumor at the moment."

Robbie slaps him on the arm, "You'd rather die than me to know that I'm… important to you? Flattery always was me weakness." He huffs showing he isn't flattered by this kink in the giant knot of their situation.

"Wait. You only read two pages? There was nothing…about that at the beginning." James accuses.

"I didn't start at the beginning then, did I?" Robbie looked over at him with amusement and disbelief, but no actual hatred or disgust. "Afraid to read any more."

James sighs and quirks his lips in acknowledgement. "I'm so sorry. I didn't lie to you. I just don't have any actual answers."

"Bugger. You said there was a ghost in our office?"

"Truth." Hathaway lets a grin crawl stealthily onto his face like a naughty boy. Robbie is giving him a half-grin and his eyes are sparkling with merriment and adoration.

"Gentlemen, if we could be so kind and focus. Romance each other when I am elsewhere. Are we in agreement that Lewis and his poorly heart are not only going to leave this case alone, but make a doctor's appointment in the very near future?"

"He wants you to leave this case alone. And make a doctor's appointment." James relayed.

Robbie looked over at James. "Oh, the two of you are ones to talk! Chief I'm Fine and DI God's will? Please. Fat chance, that."

"He said you were going into arrhythmia. That means it is a warning, Robert."

"And you are seeing people who are not there but choose not to do a bloody thing about it?"

"Three peas in a pod, then?" James looked at Robbie with shy flirting eyes and Robbie gave him a look saying he clearly thought James was barmy.

"Might I remind you two intellectual dissidents that I am dead? Ignoring things will lead to similar condition ad nauseam . Why don't you offer to get one of those pictures of your head to prove I am not a tumor as incentive to getting him to get his heart and his blood pressure under control before he has a stroke blushing over your quixotic idealization of him. I don't share your level of fascination for him, but I do wish you'd teach him to play a decent game of chess before he joins me," Morse suggested with sullen authority.

"If I go, will you go? To the doctor? Says you can't die whilst you play such a rubbish game of chess." James' voice is tranquil with sentiment.

"Uh-oh." Morse said suddenly, "Don't tell them I was here. I need to be elsewhere about now."

"James, you are embarrassing me," Robbie whispered.

"Morse isn't here. Left. He does that. Said not to tell anyone he was here." James moved closer, his pupils were wide and his movements were exaggerated and slow. "You're not cross about what you read?"

Robbie swallowed, "Not angry, just very confused."

"That isn't a no?" James looked at Robbie's lips. "Just once. May I? Just once. Please?"

Robbie took a deep breath and expelled it as he considered. "I can't imagine why you'd want to, soft lad, but if it would make you happy…Of course. Go ahead."

James smiled in joy as his eyes leaked, "Oh God, Robbie. I'm so sorry, but I do want to so very much."

His hands cupped Robbie's cheeks as if he were James' ideal obsession and he touched his lips to Robbie's with the utmost reverence trying to hide the shudder of pure longing that electrified his every nerve.

Robbie smirked at this painfully shy kiss and pulled James close, "None of that, lad. We will do this proper or not at all. So when you find it again, you will know." Robbie smiled at him with delightful adventure in his eyes and when he controlled the kiss, it was a far thing from the chaste sweetness that James had so bravely offered. Robbie was determined that if it were going to be just the once, he'd give the lad something to remember.

* * *

><p><em>A little TV history: Sir Sean Connery kisses Richard Pasco in a BBC production of Jean Anouilh's playColombe from is the first ever male-to-male kiss aired on television. It would take the BBC another twenty-seven years to show two men kissing on-screen again. (an episode of the soap opera EastEnders) The first man-to-man kiss in a major movie is claimed by Raf Valone in the 1962 feature Vu du Pont. We must appreciate that homosexuality was outlawed in the UK, a criminal offense punishable by prison, until 1967, It was more than hugely controversial to have two grown men kissing on TV and it could have finished the careers of both Connery and Pasco. They would have been seen as "corrupting viewers' morals" Kudos to Sir Sean Connery and Mr Pasco.<em>


	10. Chapter 10

James had melted into a pool of cool blue time. All that existed was this man focused on his lips and his nerves signaling his brain that this is what pure joy was. He knew it would end soon, but at least for one moment in his life he knew.

There was a noise out there in never-mind-land somewhere and suddenly his joy was abruptly ended with a rather irritated voice asking against his lips, "What the bloody hell is that!"

James turned and his breath caught and he stood up with a look of disbelief, "I believe that would be Chief Strange. I don't know the other man…ghost…whatever?"

The look on the Chief's face was mortified and annoyed, "I don't know you, but is that Lewis that you were…snogging?"

James snapped to attention, and held out his hand, "Detective Inspector James Hathaway, Sir. I know you from your portrait. Yes, this is Detective Inspector Lewis. He won't be able to see you properly, only a vague disturbance. I seem to be the Ghost liaison for the Thames Valley Constabulary. How may I help you, Sir."

Strange seemed pleased with the adherence of police formality that Hathaway indulged in without the screaming and running away he'd been subjected to most of the time. He smiled and extended his hand in a cool pretend handshake which both pulled off with a synchronized grace. Strange took a step back and introduced his companion, "Detective Inspector Hathaway, I am pleased to introduce, Detective Inspector Fred Thursday."

The other man nodded and appeared somewhat confused.

"Pleasure. I have heard many kind things about you, Sir, though sadly third hand. My former Governor and Detective Chief Inspector Morse's former bagman, DI Robert Lewis. Now, what may I do for you gentlemen?" Hathaway asked pleasantly.

Strange took a deep sad breath and shook his head, "Well, matey, it's Morse."

"It most often is." Thursday interjected.

Strange pushed his glasses up his nose and shrugged agreement, "He's escaped."

"Again." Thursday added helpfully."No need to deny he was here, son, we already know he was. Got a grief beacon from, Lewis over there."

James turned his head and looked confused. "I don't understand. Escaped from where? What, pray tell, would he be incarcerated for?"

Strange looked uncomfortable and tried to explain, "He isn't in confinement, he just isn't meant to be out here meddling with you…er…"

"Living people." Thursday said obligingly.

"Stop finishing my sentences, matey."

"Then get to the point faster. Morse will be harder than ever to track if he gets a jump on us. You know what he's like," Thursday said.

"Yes, I do. And his Bagman is here. He will be back."

James turned to Robbie. "Chief Strange and DI Thursday are looking for Morse. It seems he's escaped from…not-jail."

Robbie appeared shocked, "Well, I haven't seen him personally you understand, but it was my understanding he'd done what he intended and was headed home…or …er…whatever you call it. "

"Yes, sir. That was my interpretation, though his departure was rather abrupt," James collaborated.

Strange looked confused, "What was it he wanted? He's not to be meddling with your cases, matey."

James smiled, "He wanted to advise Robert that he was in need of a check-up. Didn't want him to knock off on me like Morse did him. Oh and told us you ordered we not muck about with the disciple case."

"What?"

James led him over to his suspect board, "I was using their old notes to try to figure out who killed an estate agent."

"Well, good. Morse always was obsessed with this case. Bad lot there. Tim Perry?"

"Yes, sir." James said.

"Sold me the house I died in," Strange stated.

"He was murdered around twenty-four hours ago."

Strange nodded then peeked around James at Lewis, "Bad heart, was it? And you were…"He waved his hand about.

"Just an experiment, sir. For a case. May have gotten a bit enthusiastic." James said with pure innocence on his face.

Strange looked relieved. "Oh. Well then."

"He actually lives with Dr. Hobson. Just came round because I was hit by a car. Anything else I can do for you, Sirs?"

"No. No. Carry on." Strange kept looking at Robbie. "See you soon, Lewis."

James bristled at that, "No, you bloody will not."

Thursday stepped forward as if to protect Strange. Hathaway glared.

"Morse may have been right to have come, matey. If you see him, tell him we need a word with him," The rotund ghost said kindly.

Hathaway frowned, taking the hint most seriously, "It was a great honor to meet you both. I will pass on your message, should he return."

"Can Lewis see… him?" Strange asked softly.

"No, Sir. I interpret."

"I see. Well, when someday comes. Do look me up, Hathaway. Chasing our wayward souls can be quite the adventure, much like police work."

"I shall indeed, Sir," James said kindly.

* * *

><p><em>I know it is a short one but I hope you liked it. Yes, things are about to cock up in a whole new way - You would be bored otherwise! Any mistakes - It is half-four a.m. Thanks for the reviews.<em>


	11. Chapter 11

"What did they say?" Lewis asked in a tired voice.

"That heaven is on lock down and Morse isn't playing by the rules.

Robbie laughed and said, "He never did."

"I also seem to have scored a post-mortem job interview," James said in amused but undecided pleasure.

"How's the pay? Have to be a bomb if it means chasing Morse for eternity? I hope they have a golf course, me," Robbie said skeptically.

"He also said that we should carry on," James said as he sat down. "I didn't quite get to finish."

Robbie looked at him with regret, "So long as you understand. It is a one off. I am not a cheating man."

James nodded and then pecked him on the cheek. "I do. I think I'd rather keep it as interrupted rather than you ending it, when I will never want to."

Robbie gently pulled James back toward him. He touched his hair and smiled before meeting his eyes. "I had no idea, canny lad. I wish you'd have told me, because I wasn't done either." He bent his head to the younger man and used his many years of playful experience to make James the ghost-whisperer release groans that had nothing to do with haunting.

Finally they parted because both were near the end of their reason. Robbie's eyes were wide and horrified as he took deep calming breaths and argued with himself that he had to stop this at once.

James looked up at him from his place across Robbie's lap and the light slowly faded from his eyes and he knew they had made a horrible mistake. "Oh God Robbie…how do I?" He didn't finish his question, but instead sat up and made his face perfectly blank, "That was the most…umm…just thank you."

Robbie stood up. "You need Ice on that leg. It is swelling."

"Yes. You should probably get home. Laura will be worried. Make her breakfast."

"I guess that would be for the best," Robbie acknowledged. "You'll be okay?"

"Yep. Fine."

"I will check in with you about Perry later?"

"It's Saturday. See you Monday, Robert."

Robbie sighed heavily and nodded. "Call me if you…"

James lifted his chin and pretended to smile.

Twenty minutes later James was curled up in his bed, the curtains drawn and the room as dark as he could make it as he cried into his pillow. He never cried in front of anyone, couldn't in fact since Zoe. But when the tears came, they were very hard to shut off.

A soothing voice came to him in the dark. "Funny thing, getting just a taste of something you want so badly. I don't know which of us has the worse end. You for knowing, or me for not ever telling him."

James stilled and rolled toward the voice. "You? Cared for him?" James sniffed and wiped at his eyes with his sheet.

Morse just looked down at him fondly, sitting stiffly and formally on the very edge of Hathaway's bed. He nodded once slowly, almost like a bow.

"But you never told him?"

"Of course not. He was too young for me and he was married…quite happily, in fact." Morse admitted with a twinkle in his eye. "You will keep my secret, won't you? I never told anyone…not a soul."

James nodded before stipulating, "If you will tell me the truth."

Morse cocked his head. "I will try."

"Are you…here as my reaper? I don't mind. I won't fight you if you are, but if one has nothing to lose, it elicits a certain freedom of action. You frighten me, sir, only in that I may have missed a clue and play this out…by the rules. I want the freedom to exercise no caution. I want to win. He has Laura and she has him. I'm redundant." James frowned wondering if he was getting his intent across. "You say he can't lose me, but I think you are trying to tell me that he is going to. Isn't he?"

Morse looked away and seemed to consider his words. "I honestly don't know, lad. I have mucked about with the stream and it always changes the outcome. I knew he was coming. I had to do some things I can get in an awful lot of trouble for just to find out the possible catalyst in the chain. If you were never involved, I would have been there to greet him. Yes. I was perfectly happy to sacrifice you and I …I didn't know you. No family, no friends, such weight on your soul…"

"And now, because you know me, has that changed?" James asked without judgment.

Morse scrunched his face up in a wince of a person just guessing, "For a while here, I am afraid both of you had signed up for the cruise. I have that sorted, but I have made a mess. I told you things I shouldn't and got you involved before the case started and you don't have a death wish but you seem to have some personal need to slap it in the face and duck."

James smirked then almost whispered, "Takes one to know one."

"Lewis was always genuinely brave, but he was never reckless like us."

"I am glad you came, Morse. To hell with the rules. '_He who obeys, does not listen to himself!_'― Friedrich Nietzsche, " James said with his spirit perked up.

Morse chuckled then rolled his eyes. "You are bloody mad as a box of frogs."

"_If I am mad, it is mercy. _Lovecraft," James said.

Morse sucked a deep breath through his nose and squinted his eyes trying to recall the quote. "_I have harnessed the shadows that stride from world to world to sow death and madness" _He beamed down at James and said_, "_What? Lovecraft is a genius. Wait till you see what he's writing now!"

* * *

><p>The Lewis series is filmed in blocks of two episodes. It takes approximately four weeks to film two episodes. Only one of those weeks is spent in Oxford.<p>

Some of Morse's favourite pubs, The Eagle and Child, The White Horse, The Kings Arms and The Bear are all in the city centre and have featured in episodes. The Trout Inn is a short trip away at Wolvercote

What connects Starsky & Hutch to Lewis & Hathaway? David Soul (who played Ken Hutchinson) appeared on Lewis in 'The Indelible Stain' as American academic and murder victim Paul Yelland. David Soul, like Laurence Fox, at one time played an overly educated tall blond cop who played Guitar and sings in real life as well as for his character. Laurence Fox released his first CD a few months ago called 'Sorry for my words" It is amazing and you should check it out.


	12. Chapter 12

Laura was just getting up as Robbie came in the door. "You look shattered?"

"Mmmmhh." Robbie agreed.

"Well, did you get him sorted?"

"God, I don't even know where to start. You are going to think that I am mad," Robbie said with a sarcastic chuckle.

"Try me?" Laura said softly.

"I need you to make doctor's appointments for us. He needs to be scanned for a brain tumor and I need me heart checked out." Robbie said as if in a daze. He flopped down on the bed in exhaustion and just sat there.

Laura tilted her head and walked closer, worry on her face, "For you, it's about time. For him, I don't like the sound of that. What are his symptoms?"

Robbie looked up at her, tears in his eyes that drew her close to offer him comfort. Eyes cast down, brows raised and unable to speak, Robbie sighed heavily as his head swiveled in little bursts of denial. She sat next to him on the bed and put her arms around his shoulders.

She thought a moment then guessed, "He's having headaches, not sleeping. You can barely get him to eat a bite."

Robbie nodded. " I had to take him home, love. He'd been drinking…on duty. That's not him. Morse would, but not me James. And that's the worst of it. Laura, he thinks he's…seeing people. Hell, I believed him after a few hours. I thought I saw something too."

"Oh. Oh Robbie. That doesn't sound good."

"No. And the strangest thing of all, he said he is in love with me. I'm going to tell you this and please don't be angry. He asked me to kiss him, just once, and I couldn't say no," Robbie confessed fiddling with his tie.

Laura raised her chin and appraised him for a moment before saying, "Okay, not terribly surprising. Tell me?"

That shocked Robbie and his head bobbed up to look at her, "We have been having rows, well honestly since I went back to work, but lately, they have been…it's like riding a roller coaster. Not just him. Not saying it is, but he looked up this old case of mine. One of the witnesses was the estate agent and now he's got it in his head that they…I knew I shouldn't have said a word. Do you remember the Devil's Disciple case?"

"Oh. The case was before my time but…well you know. The curse. Morse gave me the heebie-jeebies over that. No…he's not…"

"He is as obsessed with it as Morse ever was. Got it all over his wall. Been doing crosswords. He thinks he's seeing Morse."

"I thought he never met him?"

"He didn't."

Laura tilted her head and furrowed her brow before she asked,"That's really odd then. See, tumors put pressure on the brain and it spews out all sorts of past experiences. I have never heard of it, creating people. That's more schizoaffective. Is he depressed?"

"He's something, but I don't know. Morbid a little, thinks he's going to die and said it was God's will. I don't want to lose him," Robbie said just above a mumble.

Laura patted his hand. "Don't get upset before he's even had a look taken. I admit it sounds a bit frightening, but all that can be attributed to a broken heart…except for Morse."

"Yeah. Ghosts. That's better. No need for detectives then. Just ask the Ghost who dunnit?"

"Time saver, that, for certain. So, you kissed Hathaway?"

"Laura?" he said in warning but with a grin trying to twinkle onto his face.

"Come on. How was it?" she asked sincerely.

"The truth? Absolute rubbish," Robbie said waiting for her to react.

"Liar," She snickered.

"Mind blowing, alright?" Robbie blinked rapidly as he said with embarrassment, "I didn't want to stop at kissing."

"But you did?" Laura clarified.

"What do you think?" Robbie asked with charitable humor.

She smirked with surety and then asked, "You ever kissed a bloke before?"

"No."

"Morse?" she pushed.

"Of course not."

"Huh. See I asked him out for drinks at least ten times and he shut me down every single time." Laura said as if she were insulted, "I just assumed…"

"You were too young for him, silly." Robbie explained, "He liked ladies his own age. Hell, you're too young for me, woman."

"True. I just like old farts."

Robbie snorted with mirth.

Laura ruffled his hair and petted his back in long relaxing strokes. "I am surprised you didn't punch him when he wanted to have a snog?"

Robbie shook his head with embarrassment then agreed, "Me too if he'd snuck up on me like, but it was…heartbreaking." He took her hand. "Thank you for not being cross with me. I am so afraid for him. I have that same sinking feeling like years ago and the things he said about Morse. There is no way he could have possibly known them. Things I never told a soul. I wasn't very pleased when I first read it, but I had a few long hours to settle down. Not such an old dog after all, me."

Robbie flopped back on the bed and closed his eyes. "I imagined that if Morse is a tumor, what would I give to make him happy and then he asked that of me and…I am no Casanova, but I didn't hold back. Seems stupid to put such labels and stigmas on it. It was so easy. It was…it was something I will remember for the rest of my life."

Laura smiled and patted him. "I am proud of you. You are a man of your time and that was a big line once. You did a kind thing, you know. He's loved you forever."

Robbie opened his eyes and looked at her, "You knew that?"

"Robbie. Love. Everyone knows that."

"I need to retire. Some detective," He admits with frustration. "If more had happened, would you have been this understanding?"

Laura gave him her most scathing look of caution, "No. One off. Not a free pass, Mr. Lewis. " she stood and headed down the stairs then halfway down, she came back up and stood in the door with a frown. "Unless."

Robbie leaned up on his elbows and waited.

She shrugged a little and sniffed, "Unless he were…terminal. Then…I would. I'd want him to die, knowing he's loved. I know it sounds mad, but…"

Robbie nodded just to get her to stop. "In the right spirit, Laura, that's the kindest thing I have ever heard."

"I see people his age every day. I don't make a difference in their fate. Just don't follow him, please." Laura said with blunt calm. She then turned and left him to contemplate all the wonders of his current world. His deep thought involved the necessary and appropriate influx of snoring.

Laura snuck out the side door quietly and lit a cigarette with a trembling hand.

* * *

><p><em>One of my favorite Christmas movies stars Laurence Fox. You should go watch "<strong>Fast Freddie, The Widow and Me<strong>" if you have never seen it - it is free on You-tube. Also worth watching, a twisty horror movie called '**Deathwatch'** and a crazy horrible twisty mess of psychological nightmare called '**The Hole**' that will keep you up late. All have the amazing Mr. Fox at various ages. _

_Thank you all so much for the reviews!_


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